39.

But happiness is so boring, isn’t it?
I wrote so often when I wasn’t contented
a pervasive sadness working into words
when I couldn’t crawl from my bed

But good art doesn’t come from home
words rise out of discomfort
and this voice is not my own

I am still uncomfortable

Squeezed in and out of skin and clothes
all at once too big and too small
and I will still die
but not in my childhood bedroom
my diary yellow with cigarette fumes

I’ve a home, my first in 22 years
and I mightn’t make good art
but I am happy and I am here

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3 Comments

Filed under Poetry

3 responses to “39.

  1. septembersrose

    “But good art doesn’t come from home
    words rise out of discomfort”

    I’m finding this to be more and more true

  2. Hi Marianne- I’ve read several poems today and just wanted to say I like your ‘voice’. Real words resonate. Thanks for sharing.

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